


i'd give you my world

by colberts



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 21:44:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1485163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colberts/pseuds/colberts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky likes to start his day by reading the newspaper in bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'd give you my world

**Author's Note:**

> Ambiguous future setting, so no spoilers for CA: TWS. 
> 
> Title from "Go Your Own Way" by Fleetwood Mac (because it absolutely refuses to get out of my head).

Bucky likes to start his day by reading the newspaper in bed.

Sometimes, he picks up the print on his way home, in the early morning hours after long missions when the paper is fresh off the press and he feels like holding something in his hands that can’t open old wounds. The guy at the stand around the corner from their building never questions him, but his eyes sweep over purple bruises that curve along Bucky’s jaw and continue lower to the leather across his chest and the glint of his metal fingertips. He never says anything, just hands Bucky the paper and nods his head in farewell.

On those mornings, Bucky slumps against the elevator wall on the creaking ride to their floor, careful not to jostle the pistol strapped to his thigh. He buries his nose in the print and inhales, weary with the world but thankful for the few good things he still has. It satisfies his need for something familiar until he can fuss with the lock on their door and make his way inside to what he’s really longing for.

There are normal days where there’s no world threat outside their window or nightmares that disrupt their sleep, and Bucky swipes Steve’s tablet from the bedside table and reads the Times in the first light of morning. Sometimes he grumbles under his breath about the glare on the screen and Steve grins into his pillow, feigning sleep, because they both know Bucky’s too lazy to shift himself away from the warmth of Steve’s thighs.

Those days, Bucky feels the past like they never left it behind, like they never lost each other and had to fight their way back, like he never had things to atone for after all the blood he spilled, like the only things between them were bloodied knuckles and laughter and well-worn books in a ratty apartment building full of Jewish mothers all trying to feed Steve their leftovers. At least the warmth of the sun is the same.

Reading the paper is a production, something Bucky can control with words that don’t escape their bedroom. In those moments, he’s more like the man he knows Steve grew to love in the ‘30s than he’s been since they found themselves out of their time. He is unmasked, unshaded, undamaged by experiences he will only talk about under the cover of darkness. He wears his emotions on his sleeve before the sun is fully up, where Steve is the only one around to see him, half-asleep, at that. He scowls and crows in delight, he shakes his head in disgust and covers his mouth when he smiles like he’s done a thousand times. He allows himself to be angry, allows himself to push away the text and take deep breaths when he reads something that hits too close to home. He allows Steve to pull him down for a kiss to help him put it out of his mind.

Most mornings, Steve’s patient with him. He wakes to the rustle of sheets or Bucky’s snort of disbelief and stretches his limbs, curling his toes into the mattress. He cracks one eye open and mutters under his breath, sometimes, pretending to be annoyed that Bucky woke him, and earns himself a well-deserved elbow to the ribs. If he’s good, if he waits until Bucky finishes his articles, he’s rewarded with a warm mouth and hands against his skin.

Other mornings, Steve’s patience goes the way of the dark, melting with the sunrise and burning them both until Steve prevails, nudging the tablet out of Bucky’s hands so he can have free reign, advances unhindered. Bucky rolls his eyes and puts up a fight, sometimes, attempting to scold Steve but ultimately, he always gives in. When he stands his ground and pushes Steve away, they both know it’s only delaying the inevitable, but sometimes Bucky likes when Steve teases him.

On those warm mornings, Steve showers without him and waits for Bucky’s eyes to move off the page and up to Steve’s body as he stands naked, brushing his teeth at their bathroom sink. It makes Bucky think of the days where he’d chased skirts all hours of the night, then crawled into bed behind Steve, his breath hot on the back of Steve’s neck. They spent a lot of time building up to where they’ve gotten. Every time they come together is sweeter for it.

Sometimes, Bucky needs Steve to wake up, and he knows just how to jostle him until he blinks his eyes open. Steve always seems to know what sort of night it’s been once he sees the smudges under Bucky’s eyes and the lines around his mouth where he’s spent the last few hours frowning and debating whether or not to wake Steve. Those early mornings are when Steve snatches the paper away and reads it aloud, propping himself up against their headboard and making room for Bucky to rest his head against his shoulder. Bucky fingers the dog tags he’s worn since the day he came home and Steve slipped them over his head. All the tension drains out of him, washed away by soft-spoken words and sunlight, and he’s glad for every breath they take together.

They both move in circles around the things they can’t change. They stretch away from each other and snap back like rubber bands when the tension grows too great. There are mornings where they’re alone, mornings where they’re too tired to be in the same room, too exhausted from running from the ghosts that nip at their heels. They fuck and they fight and they laugh and they lie, and there are plenty of times when they both would do anything to return to the days when the biggest problem they had was whether or not they’d make rent. They’ve seen one another at best and worst and they take steps every day into a future they never thought they’d see. They wear armor to protect themselves from the nastiness that plagues the world around them and they come together at the end of the day, licking their wounds, but they do their best to drop it all at the front door.

Bucky would live it all over again, all the bloodshed and brainwashing and absence of choice, because it means he gets to start his mornings with the only person he’s ever needed at his side. They've been gifted a second chance, but nothing is ever for free, so they fight their battles and give each other their worlds because after everything, it’s worth it.


End file.
